Fortune's Fool
by DrCormier
Summary: Teen Rizzles AU. Jane has been diagnosed with a brain tumor. Therefore, she's being sent to a cancer support group - obviously against her will, because what use could this have, if she's dying anyway? However, in this group, she's meeting Maura, who's so completely different from everyone else, who Jane got to meet during her many stays at the hospital...
1. Chapter 1

_Hey guys!_

_this is my first Rizzles fanfic and I know, on first sight, it might kinda seem a bit like the Fault in Our Stars, but I swear to you, that I've never even read the book, nor watched the movie yet. Obviously, I kinda know what it's about and I won't even deny, that I was a bit inspired by it anyway, but I still think, that this story will be completely different. There will be drama and angst, but also lots of Rizzles and fluff. And I totally wanted to try and write a story about this ship, I'm really excited and inspired to write more. But for now, have the prologue here and I hope you guys enjoy it! It would be amazing, if you could let me know, what you think about it, I guess this would help a lot. Anyway, enjoy reading, I guess I might be back, with a proper first chapter then soon :)_

_oh, and by the way, the title of this story was inspired by the song "Fortune's fool" by Hiatus, you should go and check it out, this band is really amazing!_

* * *

**Prologue **

**Jane's POV **

It was in my last year of High School, when the event occurred, that lead to them finding the brain tumor. There hasn't been anything wrong with my health, until it suddenly has.

I've always loved the sports class, at least, when we didn't have to do weird gymnastics, or dancing stuff. God, I hated that with all I got. Team sports, however, always have been my thing. Whether it was basketball, baseball, soccer, or softball – I was in.

The day it happened, we were playing a game of soccer on the pitch outside. It was early March and our PE teacher was that typical sadistic bitch, that would rush you outside, as soon as the snow had started melting after the last winter days, no matter how cold it still was.

So, we were playing some soccer - which I didn't enjoy as much as baseball, but at least I didn't have to dance or do some yoga – and you know, I always gave my everything in sports, because I just really liked it and I was great in it. Also, running around on the pitch, kept you warm, at least. But this time, after only a couple of minutes, I started feeling weird, somehow a little dizzy in my head, which I put down to not drinking enough that day.

Nevertheless, I still was running, playing the ball, even making an assist for a goal of my team, because it didn't really seem odd and I probably just should grab a drink, when we made a break. So, everything went relatively well, until the dizzy feeling in my head turned into a real bad headache and it somehow made my legs turn into pudding all at the same.

The only thing I remember from then on, was going to the side-line and asking the teacher to get substituted for someone else; then I must have broken down, because everything around suddenly fell into pitch blackness.

* * *

Waking up again seemed like a wonder. Not as much for me, as for everyone else. For me, it was like re-gaining consciousness again, after a very, very long sleep, but I didn't feel rested, rather like I had been rolled over by a giant truck. Everything felt numb and stiff and like I hadn't moved in about a year. The light flooding into the room was much too bright and blended my heavy eyes. There were infusions in my arms and there was oxygen supplied via a nasal tube, that felt like an annoying intruder to my nostrils and if I would have had the energy to move, I'd had ripped it off. But I couldn't even bring up enough power to keep my eyes open. Blinking rapidly, I tried to get a clearer view of my surroundings, while there were some shapes moving around and babbling things I couldn't quite understand. It wasn't long then, until I fell back into unconsciousness.

When I woke up again, I was a little more focused. The nasal tube had been removed, however I still felt like I had been crushed and it was hard to bring up enough energy to keep my eyes open. This time, I could make out the shapes more clearly and recognized the concerned, but also glad faces of my parents.

My mom was crying and talking to me, while my dad kept her from leaping onto me and crushing me in one of her hugs, while he was smiling a little, seemingly over-joyed to see me awake again.

It took me a while to get clear enough again, to focus on what had happened. Yet, I still didn't fully understand and I guess it would take some more time to come to terms with what had happened to me.

When I was strong enough to keep up and wouldn't right fall back into an exhausted sleep again, a doctor came to explain everything. I've been in a coma for a bit more than two weeks after having had a cerebral hemorrhage, that had caused me to black out and that they had to perform surgery on, in order to save my life. This was the good news. Everything went exceptionally well; despite that sudden bleeding in my brains, I wouldn't have any remaining damage from that and it was also extraordinary, that I'd woken up, almost completely back to normal after being in a coma for two whole weeks. The doctors saw my surviving without any remaining damage as a lucky case, my parents as a wonder.

Of course, I was more than shocked to hear all that, but it didn't seem too bad or frightening. The only thing that got to me so far, was being in a coma for two weeks, that kinda creeped me out a little. But apart from that, I was okay, I'd be okay. At least this was, what I thought. Then, however, the doctor's face had fallen a bit, because he didn't only have those good news. There was more to it.

Next I had learned, that cerebral hemorrhages could occur all of a sudden, some people are born with an epidural hematoma that could rupture basically each minute. But in my case, this wasn't what had caused the bleeding. These were the bad news. In my case, it was caused by a tumor, a brain tumor that on first sight, looked pretty much inoperable. Obviously, they'd still try to do everything in their power.

But as the doctor told me this, I wasn't listening anymore, it was only the stuff, they told everyone to try and calm them down. I didn't really want to hear that, I couldn't. Because suddenly, everything seemed to zoom out, the doctor's voice, everything around me seemed unreal and all I could see and hear and feel was an endless emptiness.

All that I still knew in this moment was, that the doctor had basically told me, I'd survived a cerebral hemorrhage with no apparent damage, just to be doomed by a tumor right in my brains. A tumor, that I probably wouldn't escape as lucky and as alive as I had the bleedings.


	2. Chapter 2

_Hey guys!_

_wow, it's just soo incredible what kind of feedback this story has been getting in only one day already, although I just posted the prologue so far, thank you all so so much, I'm overwhelmed :)__This chapter I just wrote, turned out a bit different than I wanted it. Actually I don't tend to only describing things so much, but it kinda felt appropriate here. _

_Don't worry, though, that story won't go on with only describing Jane's thoughts and feelings, there will be some more action soon, I think the next chapter will be from Maura's point of view! I'm trying to update as soon as I can, but I cannot promise anything, since I also still got to work on an essay. But anyway, I think, that probably I'll be able to update like 1-2 times per week, also depending on how inspirated I am. Now I hope that you guys do enjoy this chapter here :)_

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**Jane's POV**

The diagnosis came almost two months ago. There were a lot more examinations I had to undergo; I've pretty much lived in the hospital for a couple of weeks after the "incident", that's how I use to call it.

By now, I am allowed to be at home most of the time, though, I have to show up for treatment regularly. Treatment included another surgery, in which the doctors tried to remove the tumor, however they couldn't get the whole thing out of my head. What is left now, is chemo therapy and a lot of different medications. Obviously there is also some new fancy therapy, where they could laser that thing out of my brains or something, but it's hella expensive and also not properly tested yet.

So, I am left with getting chemicals bumped into my veins and the perspective of soon losing all my hair due to it. Not that there is much left anyway, because for the surgeries they had to give me a haircut first, obviously. When I still had my mane of wild tangled black hair, sometimes I got annoyed by it, when the weather was too windy, or when I couldn't quite properly comb it after washing it. But in secret, I loved my hair, it was beautiful and not having long hair anymore, but being left with only some tiny fluffy stubbles, that had grown again over the last few weeks, really makes me feel sad and incredibly self-conscious.

My Ma bought me some wig, but I hate it, it doesn't even look close to my real hair and it makes my head feel itchy. So, most of the time, I'm wearing some bandana and a baseball cap, my brothers say it makes me look like a gangster and Frankie calls me "little gangsta girl" now, when he wants to annoy me.

The little bastard, that has parked itself in my brains, is an astrocytoma, means stadium III cancer (with IV being worst, according to my doctor). That gives me a five year survival rate of thirty percent. It isn't nothing, but it also doesn't seem particularly well.

Probably being the one out of three people dying within the next five years – when I'm only 17 at present time – really is a thing, that leaves you scared and desperate. I don't like to admit it, but actually everyone around me seems to know anyway. They're all telling me that it's okay to be afraid. It's alright to be frightened by those perspectives and that they do understand.

But I really don't think they actually do. How could they? They're not running around with a time bomb in their head. Because that's the tricky thing about it: If the cancer doesn't carry me off slowly over the next few years, there's always this prospect of suddenly getting another hemorrhage and dying from that. That's some nice perspectives for the future, huh?

I'm currently trying to keep that kind of self-mockery, because really, that's the only thing that's keeping me going. I don't have much to do anymore, since my parents took me out of school – and seriously, how would I be able to focus on writing my finals soon, when I could drop dead each moment?

I don't think school's important anymore at this moment. Obviously my parents don't wanna think about the worst and they keep telling me, that when I'm over it, when I'm through, when I survived and got rid of that little bastard, I'll need to finish my education. But I really don't wanna think about that now.

At the moment, all I do, is lying in bed, listening to music, watching some games, mostly baseball and basketball. I also tried reading some books, but I was never one to actually read many books, so that's not anymore on the list of all the many activities, I can choose from, to keep myself entertained.

When I don't feel too bad, however, I'm always up to play some video games with my little brothers. Tommy is only 11 and doesn't really understand the full consequences of my illness. Ma and Pop didn't fill him in on everything; they don't wanna think about me dying either, obviously, so they didn't tell Tommy the whole story, he's still too young. And it's exactly the right thing to do, I don't want my little brother to be sad and afraid for me, I don't wanna charge him with all of that, if it can be avoided.

Frankie, being 14 years old, does understand pretty well, however. He cried, when he found out. I don't cry in front of anyone, ever. Not even my own family. It's always been like that, at least since I wasn't a small girl anymore. I've never let anyone seen me cry in public, I just cannot stand it.

Since they told me, I cried a bit every now and then, because, let's face it: it's incredibly unfair. I'm 17 years old, this is my last year of High School, I've made plans for afterwards, maybe going to college, but rather I wanted to be a cop. And now? I'm stuck here in my room, with nothing to do and even if I had something, I could probably not even carry through with it, because I'm always just tired. So incredibly tired…

Anyway, Frankie was crying his eyes out, when he found out and I couldn't stand the sight. I never could see any of my little brothers crying, I always tried to cheer them up again, protect them. Of course, also then I was the one to console Frankie, even if I was the one who got cancer. But that doesn't matter. He's my little brother, and I'd always feel protective over him.

By now, he doesn't seem so down anymore, I can guess, that he still is, obviously, but he doesn't want to show it, because he doesn't want me to feel even worse about that whole situation. It's so typical for Frankie. He's also always looking out for me, even if he's three years younger. Rather, he's trying to cheer me up with everything he can and I'm incredibly glad and thankful for it. He doesn't try to sugarcoat things like ma and pa do, but I can understand why they do so. They obviously feel the need to protect me, our whole family, by acting, as if things weren't that bad and that everything will be alright again soon.

Also my friends from school reacted completely different to it. My best friend, -Barry Frost, he's taking it like Frankie. He was devastated at first, but by now, he's masking it, like I do myself. He's treating me no different than before and that's the best thing he could actually do. I'm not dead yet. Neither am I too fragile, I can handle myself. At least, that's what I'm telling myself. And Frost knows and accepts things like these, so he's just treating me normally, just like he always has.

Since I'm out of the hospital, he comes around almost every afternoon after school, tells me the latest stories; but sometimes we're also just watching a movie together, or some baseball game. Hanging out with Frost actually makes me forget things for a while, everything feels like it always has, like I'm not sick. The only moments, I get ripped out of that perfect little illusion, are when we get the idea to go outside, for skating or playing some basketball. I don't have the energy for those kind of activities and after a couple of minutes, I'm all exhausted and endlessly tired. That's when reality comes crushing back and leaves me frustrated and disappointed. Frost understands. He asks me then, if I wanna talk about it, or if we rather wanna do something else. Then he tries cheering me up, buying me ice cream or asks whether I'm feeling like going to the movies with him, because "there's this freaking great new action film".

One of my other friends, Dean – actually his name's Gabriel, but everyone just is calling him by his surname, just like Barry – he doesn't take it as cool as Frost. I always liked hanging out with Dean, because he's just a frank, un-complicated guy. But since he knows about the cancer, he hasn't been the same around me anymore. He's not really treating me like one of our little clique anymore, rather than one of those Barbie girls who need to be sugarcoated. I dunno why he's acting so strangely around me, as if I suddenly was someone who needs to be handled with kid gloves, but I guess, that maybe he's just scared and afraid of losing me. I haven't seen him around as much as Frost and it kinda hurts, because I dunno what's wrong and if he probably is avoiding me. But then again, I don't really have the nerve, nor the power to worry about things like these.

What's getting to me much worse, than Dean treating me like I could drop dead each minute, – well, theoretically I could, but that's not what I meant – is Casey not showing up anymore. Casey is the guy I've been dating a couple of times, before the incident happened. I thought he's a nice enough and decent guy, he's always been funny and cute to be around, but since he heard about me being sick, he's barely been around. He's visited me once or twice when I still was at the hospital, but other than that, I didn't see him anymore.

And this really pains me, because he always seemed to really like me, but now he doesn't even feel the need to ask how I am doing. He was always sweet around me, but now? I guess, probably he just doesn't find me pretty anymore, I mean, who would wanna date a girl who's about to die and doesn't have any hair anymore? Somehow, I can maybe understand him a bit, I'm feeling shitty most of the time, I'm no good company most days. I sleep a lot, I can barely go out and do any activities, without getting tired in a couple of minutes. Why would anyone bother to hang around me, let alone date me?

I've been crying about this for a bit, I also told Frost. He said, that Casey is an idiot, if that's actually the reason, why he isn't showing up anymore and that he would totally go out with me, if he didn't have his girlfriend. The only thing I would have to change for that, was my "ganster look". Then he pushed the baseball cap off of my head, gave me a small kiss on the temple and told me I still look beautiful.

At least Frost always knows, how to bring a small smile back on my lips, even in times like these.


	3. Chapter 3

_Hey guys :)_

_it's so incredible to see, how many of you read and followed this story in such a short time, I'm so stunned and happy! Also thanks a lot for the likes and comments, this makes my day and gives me more inspiration :) Actually, I didn't plan on already posting another chapter today, but somehow I started writing and then it was done :D I really tried working on my essay instead, but I couldn't keep focused on reading those books, while this chapter was in my head, so I had to get it out first ;) I hope you enjoy it, thanks for reading :)_

* * *

**Chapter 2**

**Maura's POV **

Being sick doesn't only mean spending a lot of time at the hospital, taking medication, having blood and bone marrow transfusions, meeting a dozen different doctors, being frightened and tired and powerless most of the time – but for me, it also meant getting my parents back.

This might probably sound odd, but you probably should know, that my parents are both highly busy, frequent travelers, who work all around the world – or at least, they used to. Until I was diagnosed with CML three years ago. It's a form of leukemia and I'm suffering from it in state Rai I. My doctors told us back then, that I probably would be able to live with it for the next eight or nine years. That's how far I could make it, if I cannot get cured.

In the meantime, it looked quite well and we thought, that I had pulled through with the last bone marrow transfusion they induced me, but in the last weeks, I felt worse again. Now they said, it's back and I need new treatment. The main problem with treating leukemia, however, is finding the right bone marrow donors. Only if everything fits perfectly, you could get a chance of getting better. And then, as I sadly had to experience, it didn't mean that it actually is a cure that would help keep the disease away. Sometimes it just doesn't fit properly in the end.

My life has changed completely over the last three years, obviously. I used to spend a lot of time alone, with my parents being abroad for months. Since I don't have any siblings, my only company would be Adrienne, our house maid - and my former nanny – whom I know since I've been a little girl. But I didn't mind it, I like keeping to myself, reading books and magazines about science, which always have been my favorite subjects at school. Whether it was biology, chemistry or physics, I loved it. Another subject I really enjoyed is history. So, another one of my spare-time activities always has been watching documentaries about history on TV.

I've never had any real friends to spend time with. Other kids and teenagers always think I'm a little odd, just because I tend to spoil them with random facts about the things I read about. Or maybe also because rather than playing ball with them, I always have been looking to find small animals, that I could examine under my microscope. However, I always felt okay with it. There are times, of course, when I still feel lonely, because I don't really have someone my own age who understands me and whom I can confide in, but at least my parents don't travel around the world anymore, pursuing their jobs.

Since I got sick, my father, who's the CEO of a big company, is staying at the office in Boston and sends other people to travel to the offices abroad on his behalf. My mother, who's an artist and used to work in many different countries in Europe, by now is working a lot in her gallery at home. Most of her exhibitions are taking place in New York or Los Angeles then, it has become rather seldom for her to stay at Paris, Barcelona or London for working there, or also just flying there for an art exhibit.

Before I got sick, I also attended a boarding school in Switzerland. Obviously, as soon as my health didn't allow me to attend school anymore, my parents took me back home to Boston. But being sick, doesn't mean that I've neglected my education, that's something I wouldn't ever dare to do. So, whenever I'm not quite as tired from treatment and don't feel especially sick from the medication, I study.

That's how I managed to graduate from High School already and started my freshman year at med school, although I'm just 17. Obviously, my parents organized a teacher for home schooling, which I completely took profit from. And at college, there are a lot of lectures that are recorded and then put online, for everyone to re-watch them, whenever they wanted, which makes it actually pretty simple to study from home, or the hospital.

Sometimes it's a little ironic to me, that while other med students would come to the hospital for some classes, I just have to be there a lot of the time due to my health. But since my doctors know, that I'm studying medicine, they're more than glad to answer my increasing amount of questions on any medical fields and that's the exact reason, why I never dislike going to the hospital again. I'm a rational person, I believe in science, I always have and obviously I'm aware of all the risks and chances of the treatments I have to undergo, because I didn't only read a lot about it, but also I constantly ask the doctors to explain everything as detailed as possible.

Seeing those things as rationally as I do, doesn't mean, however, that I'm never scared of what's happening to me. Even if I always try to listen to the facts, there are still moments, when I'm just overwhelmed by all of this and when I just wish, that I didn't have to bear it. That it wasn't me, who's sick. That I could live a normal life and attend college as all my fellow students do, not just watch the records, but actually go out there and maybe try to make some friends.

Because it would surely be nice having some friends outside of the hospital. It would be nice, having some friends at all, to start with. Not that I made any during my stays at the children's oncology station. But I guess, that this might rather have to do something with everyone being so busy and concerned about themselves, that it's actually tough to find friends here. It's also not, that I didn't try, but some of the other kids didn't even see why they should make the effort to befriend someone, if they would lose them to death anyway soon.

At least that is, what I'd heard from people who went to the support groups. I've never been there myself, I've rather always talked to doctors and psychologists and to my parents. They'd always listen to me and try to give me some advice and support. Especially my parents seemed like exchanged, but I guess, that's what having a sick child does to one: being rich doesn't mean, that you are spared from diseases. Now, they care a lot more, they almost could be described as overprotective, but I'd never complain, because from all the years at boarding school, I still know how it feels to be kind of left alone all of the time and having the feeling of being pushed off.

Now, that the doctors said the leukemia got worse again and I should come in for new treatment soon, I somehow feel this helplessness again, that already crept onto me three years ago, when they first diagnosed it. Thinking, that you could have beat it, just to be told, that this isn't the case, clearly must be one of the most defeating and worst feelings in the world.

At least, I know from the facts, from articles in medical journals and statistics, that this isn't the end yet. It shouldn't be, it cannot.

* * *

_oh, and I'm also sorry, that it's only so short, but as I said, I just really had to get this out of my head to be able to do my work xD but no worries, okay, I will be back with another chapter the next days, probably already one where Maura and Jane are meeting, but I'm not sure about that yet...I'll be back soon, however :)_


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys,**

**here I am again with the next chapter! Thank you all so, so much for reading and all, I don't think I've ever had that many clicks on one single chapter in such a short time as when I posted the last chap, it's absolutely incredible, thanks :) I really hope you also do like this one here. Maura's mother might be somehow OOC, but I think this is appropriate, considering that Maura has cancer and all xD anyway, enjoy reading :)**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**Jane's POV**

"But you've gotta eat something, Janie!"

"I already told you, I'm not hungry, Ma", I reply a little annoyed, as my mom tries for the umpteenth time to persuade me to eat dinner with the rest of the family.

"I made cannoli for dessert", she tries to catch me next, but I only roll my eyes a little, being annoyed by now.

Obviously I know, that she only means well, and also, that I probably should eat something. But I just don't feel like it. I'm still feeling sick from the medication I had to take mere hours before and even if it's nothing new to me anymore by now – I've been drugged up to the eyeballs for the last couple of weeks – it still sucks. A lot. And it's just totally exhausting, that my mother, no matter how often I try to explain it to her, somehow doesn't want to understand, that I'd anyway just puke the food out again in the end. That's nothing I particularly look forward to.

"I don't want it", I just say, leaning back into my pillows again and grabbing the TV remote – demonstratively turning the volume higher, as a sign for my mom to leave me alone again.

"You cannot just always sit around all the time and watch TV. I'm worried about you, Jane", my mom means then.

"No kidding!", I role my eyes once more, sighing internally. "I am dying, it would be weird if you wouldn't be worried, Ma."

"Jane!", she admonishes me and gives me a shocked look.

"What? It's true! I mean, what do you expect me to do? I gotta take all these pills and stuff, I get tired just by walking around for too long, what do you want me to do, Ma?!"

I have to admit, that this isn't really a fair thing of me to say, making my mother feel even worse about the whole situation, but ranting seems to be the only thing left for me at the moment, that makes me somehow feel alive.

"You're not dying, Janie, you are not! There's still hope! And as long as there is, I don't want you to be that negative all of the time…that's all I expect you to do. Have a little faith, okay?", my mom says, her voice shaky and I can catch a glimpse of tears in her eyes, which instantly makes me feel even worse for what I said before.

"Ma, listen…I'm sorry, okay? But, I just…" _I dunno what to do. I'm feeling so numb and powerless. I dunno how to go on, if it's even worth it. It seems that is isn't… Someone please help me, I'm so afraid…_That's what I wanna say, but all I get out is: "I just really am not hungry now. Maybe later, okay?"

"Alright. But I still don't like you behaving like that. Probably you should go on with school from home? I mean, you've gotta do something, Jane. You cannot get healthy again, by just lying around all day long."

"Oh, but by studying algebra and the civil war, I will?", I throw back sarcastically. Really, what's the point in keeping up with school work, when I won't ever need that stuff again? I probably wouldn't even need it, if I could somehow survive the cancer. I've always wanted to become a cop, or even a detective. Therefore I won't need that stuff for sure…

"That's not what I meant!", my mom answers a little indignantly. "You don't seem to be yourself anymore, you're depressed."

"I have a goddamn bomb in my head, that could blow up each moment, obviously I am not the fucking same that I was before", is my grumpy answer and I cross my arms in front of my chest dismissively. Depressed, honestly?

"Language, Jane!"

"Really?!"

My mother sighs and tries to look at me dispraisingly, but she fails at it. Since I've become sick, she cannot really bring herself to reprimand me anymore. Maybe she just wants me to stay calm and not get into any arguments, because I'm anyway weak and tired most of the time. Probably she is also just too afraid of actually losing me to the cancer.

"I was thinking, that maybe you could go and talk to a therapist about it, you know? This could help you to…get to terms with it and accept your situation...", she then suggests carefully. Well, at least as tactfully as my mom is able to.

"I am not gonna see a shrink, Ma! C'mon, I'm okay…I don't need that stuff", I say in a weak attempt to get through with it, but my mom knows better, obviously. I mean, how should I be okay? But does she honestly expect me to talk to someone like that?!

"Sure you are", she just gives back knowingly and I sigh. "Good, maybe not a therapist then; but Dr. Harold told me about this support group. It's for kids with cancer, they always meet up at the hospital…you could join there, you know?"

"And what use would that have? I don't wanna go there and talk about my feelings to people I don't know and who probably will be dead in a couple months, just as I might be…"

"You could meet kids who experience similar things, you know…they understand, what you're going through. It could help you!", my mother tries to argue, but I really don't wanna listen to that at the moment.

"I really don't see the point in that. It's just pointless blah-blah…what do you think's gonna happen there, I'm gonna find a new best friend, whom I can rant about cancer stuff with?"

Honestly, I don't really believe in that stuff. Maybe a support group could help for smoking or Alcoholics Anonymous, but in my case? The doctor's told me all the odds and I just gotta wait and see how therapy works. That's all I can do. There's no point in talking to strangers, when I don't even like talking about my feelings so much to Frost, who's my best friend.

"Maybe, who knows…"

"Really, Ma?!", I give back, annoyed as hell. Can't she just finally leave me alone?

"Please, just think about going there once. Just to check it out. That wouldn't be too bad, would it?", she tries to persuade me.

I let out a heavy sigh. This whole argument is making me tired again and I just wanna sleep…For finally getting my peace, I give in in the end.

"And when I don't like it, I don't have to go back?"

"Just try going there first, promise?", my mom means, finding an encouraging smile, that makes the tips of my mouth twitch up slightly.

"Okay…okay, but just once!"

**Maura's POV **

"Mom?"

"Yes, darling?", my mother turns away from the canvas she's just working on to face me.

"I don't think this is working out", I mean, sounding a little frustrated, while appraising the accumulation of various colors on my own canvas. I don't even really know, what it actually is supposed to represent, although I put those lines and stains there myself.

"What do you mean?", she asks in return, laying her crayons away.

"You told me, that art could be therapeutic…well, I don't really feel like it is", I explain, somewhat defeated. "I mean, don't get me wrong, mom. It was a nice idea. And I really appreciate spending time here with you in your studio. But…I don't feel any better by doing art."

When the doctors told us, that the last bone mark transfusion didn't help in the end, it left me rather helpless and also really frustrated. But I guess being frustrated comes with being sick. Even after living three years with this disease, there still pops up the ever-present question: why does all of this happen to me?

So, I was looking for something else than my studies and books to distract me. Not even playing the violin did help so much and getting absorbed in classical music as good as always helped me. Then my mother had the idea to bring me to her studio, so that I could try some painting. At first I was a little reluctant, because – as much as I liked the fine arts – painting myself wasn't anything I'd done so much before. Probably when I was a kid, but certainly not anymore in the recent years.

I have to admit now, that it really isn't so bad. Actually, I like it, even if I don't really have a clue, what to paint and that all I am doing, is basically putting different colors on the canvas in various ways. But it just doesn't give me the release I'd hoped for. Usually, playing the violin, or listening to classical music soothes me. It calms me down, takes my mind off all the questions and fears that are brewing in there and leaves me in a state of peace for at least some time.

When Dr. Lerner told me, that I'd have to come back to the hospital soon for new treatment, I went to my room, as soon as we were back from the doctor's office, to play my violin. It didn't help, though. It didn't soothe me and it didn't give me the peace I am looking for.

This was a week ago. I didn't sleep so well since then, didn't eat much either and finally, my mother seemed to have a good idea by making me try out painting. Now I'm here in her studio, surrounded by canvases of all possible sizes, some still blank, but a lot of them splattered and sprinkled in paint. There were also some futuristic sculptures out of clay, or some sort of metals.

Still, I don't feel the calming reassurance I'm seeking so desperately. I've never been the person who could let their mind rest easily, but since I have been diagnosed with leukemia, it got worse. But painting as a distraction wasn't the right thing for me.

"I was thinking, that maybe it would help to talk to other people…Other than you, or dad, or Dr. Lerner", I go on after a while, adding some apple green dots to my painting.

"You know, if you want to talk to a therapist, I could always make an appointment with Dr. Jaspers…", my mom throws in, but I shake my head. Dr. Jaspers is my mom's psychologist, but I really cannot stand her. She just doesn't make me feel understood.

"That's not what I want. I meant, maybe other children who're also suffering from cancer. Someone who could understand, what I am feeling", I try to explain, turning to face my mother again.

"Yes, I understand, sweetie. Didn't Dr. Lerner mention something like this before…a support group?"

"I think so. There are regular meetings in the hospital, I guess", I try to remember.

"Do you want me to call there and ask?", my mother offers, because she knows how much I loathe having to make phone calls. It just makes me feel really uncomfortable, talking to people just over the phone, not being able to see their face. I already have difficulties in reading people's facial reactions, when I talk to them in person; just hearing their voices on the phone is completely confusing for me sometimes.

"Yes, I'd really like to try it, mom", I reply and for the first time in days, I feel my lips form into a small smile.

This could actually be a help to set my mind to rest and stop it from building up new death scenarios all of the time. I haven't tried going to a cancer support group before, mostly because I didn't think I'd need it, or it would be helpful. But by now, I didn't see a reason not to go and talk about what's troubling me. Also to listen to what other kids' problems are while fighting cancer. And maybe, just maybe, I could even find a friend there. Because having someone, who would actually understand, where I'm coming from, certainly could help me out here. Then I wouldn't feel helpless and scared all alone anymore. Because the feeling that no one really gets what you're actually going through, might be even worse than having to battle the disease.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Hey guys :)**_

_**here's the next chapter, thanks a lot for your continued interest in this story, it's just really amazing! I really hope you enjoy this chapter as well :)**_

* * *

**Chapter 4 **

**Jane's POV**

Both my Ma and my doctor seem to have ganged up on me, because they're both persuaded that I'm having a light depression. They came to this conclusion, because, according to my Ma, all I do is "lying around in bed, watching dull TV shows and starving" myself. That's a bit exaggerated, at least the eating part. I mean, what am I supposed to do when I'm just not hungry? Or when I'm hungry, what doesn't happen too often, and then puke out everything I ate again?

Anyway, they decided, that it really would be the best for me to join this cancer support group they've got in the hospital. It's for kids and teenagers and my Ma is convinced that it will totally be a help. I could talk about my feelings there – as if I'd do that – and probably even make new friends – who would probably die even sooner than I, so why making the effort?

"Janie, come on, you promised", my Ma almost whined, because I am being way too stubborn for her likes once more. She claims that I became even more bullheaded in the last couple of weeks.

"I really don't remember that", I reply, although I vaguely do.

"You said 'okay'", my mom remembers me, while looking around for the car keys.

"I didn't promise, then", I argue back, already immensely annoyed about that whole support group thing, although I haven't even set a food out of the house yet. We should be on the way there, though – at least if I don't wanna be late.

"Come on, Jane. You can't always be that stubborn! There's either support group, or a therapist…", Ma goes on, but I cut her off.

"No way, I'm not gonna see a shrink, Ma!"

"Then support group it is", she decides for me and pulls me up from the chair at the kitchen table, while I don't find enough energy to stay this repellent. So, I guess, I just have to let this happen to me then.

* * *

As we arrive at the parking lot of the hospital some minutes later, I really don't wanna get out of the car, but my mom just stares me down with that accusing look, until I finally give in.

"Fine", I grumble and unbuckle my seatbelt, not without glaring back at her.

Obviously my Ma comes along to walk me in and make sure that I "find the room". She only wants to make sure that I don't skip support group and hang around somewhere else in the hospital for an hour.

Support group is on third floor and we take the lift there, because I feel too tired to walk up the stairs.

"Ah, there it is", Ma says, pointing to a door to our left with a sign reading "Cancer Support Group for Kids" and another piece of paper announcing the dates for the meetings.

"No, kidding. I totally wouldn't have found that on my own", I roll my eyes and turn to face my Ma.

"You can leave now, or do you wanna join?", I mean sarcastically.

"If you want me to, I can…", my Ma starts, but I disrupt her.

"Maaaa…no, pick me up in an hour, okay?"

"Okay. I'll wait for you in the parking lot", she says, not paying attention to my annoyance anymore.

"Yeah, alright. See you, then."

"Bye, sweetie", Ma answers and before she can give me a hug or kiss, I turn away and open the door.

Inside there are only five people so far, since I'm not even late, although I thought I would be. But there are still ten minutes to go, until it's supposed to start, so there is still the possibility that more kids would show up.

Everyone is sitting on chairs, lined up in a circle. That typical support group thing. I didn't expect otherwise. The room is painted in crème and orange, there are a couple of plants on the window boards and some children's drawings put to the walls. I suppose this should create a light and happy atmosphere, or something.

There are two girls, both younger than me, probably around twelve or thirteen. They seem to know each other, because they have their heads put together, whispering. One of them is bald from chemo therapy, the other is sitting in a wheelchair.

Then there are also two boys, one of them seems around my age, he's playing some game on his Nintendo. The other one is maybe in Frankie's age and looking around the room awkwardly, with nothing else to do. He only has one healthy arm left, the other one is a prosthesis. All in all they give a real sad image and I wonder how the hell this should help me to get out of a depression – that I'm not having, at least in my opinion – when everything just seems so utterly frustrating and unfair.

The fifth person already in the room is an older man, probably in his mid- fifties, well-built, with short gray hair and a beard.

As I close the door behind me and draw the others' attention on me, the man smiles, a welcoming, genuine smile that makes him seem like a real nice guy. So, there's one person here that doesn't pull my mood even further down. But I guess that's because it's his job, being a social worker or something.

"I see we've got another newbie here today", he means, pointing for me to take a seat.

"I'm Vince Korsak, but you can call me Vince. I'm the leader of this group here", he explains then.

"I'm Jane", I just say, nodding briefly in return.

"We'll just wait some more minutes, then we'll begin with the official round of introductions, okay?", Vince replies with another smile to which I just answer with another nod.

* * *

**Maura's POV**

There are not many things that I hate more than being late. It's just a rude thing, not being punctual and it makes me feel really nervous, because I always want to make a good impression on others. Being late doesn't count to making a good impression, though.

The reason why I am late for support group is that I just wasn't all that sure anymore. Before I left the house to drive over to the hospital, all of a sudden, that mood crept over me, trying to tell me, it would be better to stay home and I almost gave in to it.

But since I already decided some days ago, that I'd join the support group today, suddenly backing out of it wasn't an option. Because that's a thing that I dislike almost as much as being late: not sticking to the plans you made yourself. That would mean not being true to yourself and it's not what I was raised to be.

So, now I am at the hospital, already some minutes later than I should be, looking for the room where the support group meeting will be held. Finally I find it on the third floor, checking my watch, before entering the room. I am only three minutes late. That shouldn't be too bad.

When I step into the room, I can feel everyone's eyes on me and heat creeping up on my cheeks.

"I'm sorry for being late", I get out, averting my gaze to the gray-ish floor. I just really hate being late…

"Oh no, it's not a problem!", a male voice is telling me encouragingly and as I dare to look up again, I find an older gray-haired man smiling at me.

"It's good that you decided to show up, even if late! Just take a seat, I only just started introducing myself...I'm Vince, by the way", he went on, and I nodded lightly, making my way over to one of the few free places, sitting down next to a young girl in a wheelchair.

"Okay, guys and gals", Vince starts over, when I took my seat. "We're here today to give you an opportunity to share your experience of living with cancer and talking about your feelings about it. As usual, we'll shortly introduce to each other, name, age, diagnosis and how you feel, alright?"

"Since I know that no one here really likes to start, I'll start myself", he then adds with a hearty laugh.

Then he starts telling his cancer story. How he's cured by now, but was suffering from stomach cancer and how they almost had to take out his whole stomach, but then luckily some new therapy worked for him and now there has been no evidence of cancer for almost fifteen years. Vince also tells us, how he started believing in god during this tough time and that since then, he's been praying every day, because being healthy is the highest good one can have.

"So now…that was enough of me for the moment, who wants to go on? Martha maybe?", he addresses a girl sitting two places to my right.

While Martha is telling about her cancer, I let my eyes wander over the other attendees of the support group. Some of them look terribly miserable. Then my eyes land on a lanky girl with a red bandana and a baseball cap of the Red Sox. One can tell that her face is a little puffed from whichever therapy she's getting, yet her well-defined features, especially her sharply formed cheekbones give her something, that makes her look really beautiful, even in sickness. She seems to be not really interested in what Martha has to tell – I have to admit, that I also haven't quite listened to her anymore, once this girl caught my eye – because she's just staring off into the opposite direction of where Martha and I are sitting.

As I realize, that maybe staring at the girl with the bandana and the Red Sox cap for too long would be rude, I turn my head to the left, where a boy – I think he introduced himself as Greg – just started telling his story.

Yet I cannot keep focused on what he's saying about his bone cancer that already cost him one forearm, because I feel someone's eyes on me. And indeed, as I turn my view away from Greg, I find Red Sox girl (that's how I just named her, because it wasn't her term to introduce herself yet) looking directly at me. As I fix my eyes on her dark brown ones, she's blushing, obviously feeling embarrassed about being caught staring, and then directing her look elsewhere once more. But I don't feel weird about her staring at me, it didn't feel intrusive or creepy. Just interested. And I almost wish, she'd lift her gaze again, but she obstinately keeps it on the floor.

"Okay, who's up next?", Vince means, as Greg is finished. "How about our latecomer?", he looks at me expectantly. And now I also find Red Sox girl's eyes on me once more, clearly seeming interested.

"Alright…my name is Maura. I'm 17 and I've been living with leukemia for the last three years. The last bone mark transfusion, I got like more than half a year ago, looked quite promising. My doctor said, I could probably pull through this time, I could be cured. But then we found out some weeks ago, that it came back…", here I stop, not really sure how to go on.

"How are you feeling about it?", Vince wants to know.

"I…feel kind of betrayed", I mean thoughtfully, not sure how else to put it.

"By whom?", another boy wants to know.

"By medicine. See, I study it. I'm at med school and…it makes me feel so incredibly frustrated, that yet there hasn't been found a cure, even despite all of the amazing and breathtaking innovations that have been made over the recent years. Yet, there are still so many people suffering from diseases that we just cannot cure at the moment…and this leaves me…kind of mad. But it also makes me more determined to keep on doing my studies. To keep up on the latest therapies, because maybe one day, there might be one, that could cure cancer without losing patients. Without counting percentages of chances of survival…", I trail off, as I realize that almost everyone in the room is looking at me incredulously, only Vince seems to be in awe of what I said. Red Sox girl, however, is finding my view once more, giving me a nod and the tiniest and sweetest of smiles that makes my cheeks flush.

* * *

By the end of support group, I had learned, that Red Sox girl is named Jane, is my age and got her diagnosis of a brain tumor almost three months ago. She didn't want to speak about her feelings, but we spent the rest of the hour, sneaking glances at each other, which made me feel a little giddy internally, because Jane somehow seemed to be genuinely interested in me. And she was the only one, who didn't react in a weird way, after I told them my thoughts about medicine. I tend to talk way too long about my interests, which makes other people left out bored, but Jane seemed to have liked what I told them.

Vince lets us leave after we made a prayer circle, asking for god to help us on our way and keep everyone safe. I don't really believe in god, rather in science, but everyone else also played along, at least pretending they were praying, so I did so as well.

I am already out of the door, having an internal debate about whether to stop Jane on her way out and try to talk to her or not, when I hear a raspy voice call my name.


	6. Chapter 6

**_Hey guys!_**

**_I'm terribly sorry for the delay, actually I wanted to post again earlier, but life was interfering. I had to do some stuff for college and I met a lot of friends recently, so there wasn't much time for writing. I hope I can continue faster again now. And I also hope you enjoy this chapter, I found it a little tough, because I re-wrote it like 3 times xD And thanks a lot to everyone who's been reading this story, liked or reviewed it, it means a lot :)  
_**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

**Jane's POV**

"Maura?"

When she's turning around, a smile spreading on her impossibly beautiful face, I'm sure my heart skips a beat and I almost forget what I wanted to say to her. For a moment, I wonder if it actually was a good idea calling her back, trying to talk to her, because now it makes me feel kind of nervous and I can't even properly explain why.

"Yes, Jane?", Maura asks back, seemingly curious about what I have to say. So I try getting my voice back to give her an answer.

"Eh…I just…you know, I totally agree with what you said earlier. I just…wanted to tell you that, you know", I get out, stammering a bit, while we make our way over to the elevator.

That's all I can say now and feeling that I kinda sound like an idiot makes my cheeks grow hot. It's strange, usually I'm not like that at all: bashful, easily flustered and embarrassed. But maybe it's because I just met her and even if I really don't know why it is so, something makes me really want to talk to her. Because she's different than all the others that attended support group with us; that much she proved just by introducing herself and sharing her thoughts. Even despite of the throwback Maura just has to face, she's making such a determined impression, believing that there is hope, that there will be a cure and this really is kind of impressive.

"Uhm…thanks, I guess?", she gives back, laughing a little and biting her bottom lip, which makes me laugh a bit as well, because it just looks so damn adorable.

"So, you're only 17, but already at med school? You must be a genius then!", I say then, clearing my voice, because – did I just actually think Maura is adorable?

"Well, I'm just…really interested in science. I've always been", she means a little flattered, disrupting my thoughts.

"What are you doing, still going to High School?", Maura wants to know then, while I press the button for first floor.

"No…no. I was in my last year of High School, but my parents took me out of it, after…after we found out", I give back, feeling a little embarrassed now, considering that Maura is going to med school and all, even despite her illness. And also because I have already learned so far, that in the land of cancer patients, asking whether you still are going to school equals asking how bad your cancer is and how your chances of survival stand.

"You're not keeping up with your education?", she replies, clearly trying to keep her voice from sounding too shocked, it doesn't work out too well, though, which makes me feel even a bit worse.

"No…not really. I dunno, I feel like it's not worth it, you know. When I'm gonna die anyways…", I try to explain myself then. And it's actually what I'm thinking, I mean, why wasting the time I've got left for studying?

"But you don't know, right? You don't know, maybe they find a therapy that works for you. Then you'll survive and what are you going to do then, without even having a High School degree?", Maura says, trying to make a point and even managing to sound somehow encouraging.

"How did you do it?", I want to know just as the elevator comes to a stop at first floor and we step out of it. I really couldn't imagine going back to school, at least not at the moment. I'm just feeling not up to it, too miserable and tired. Even now I already start feeling drenched of my energy again, just from trying to make conversation with someone new.

"Well…I had a private teacher. My parents wouldn't allow me to go back to school, also before they took me out of it, I was at a boarding school in Switzerland, so…", she tells me, while my chaw literally drops down a level. Private teacher? Boarding school?

"Are you like rich or something? Because my parents wouldn't get me a private teacher and all of that…", I cannot hold back, even if I know that this might come off as rude and improper.

"They just wanted to offer me the best education", is all I get back and I can hear out of Maura's voice that she clearly doesn't want to talk about this topic any longer.

"Look, I didn't wanna…offend you or something. I just…I can't get a private teacher. And my parents won't let me go back to school, so…I don't think I can finish High School, before I'm cured", I mean then, feeling a bit sorry for what I said before, or rather for how I said it.

"It's alright, Jane", Maura answers, but then her face falls a little, while we're walking towards the exit of the hospital. "So…is it right to guess that your odds aren't that great then?"

"Well, I dunno how you'd put it, but I'm basically walking around with a bomb in my head…right here", I give back, pointing at the spot where the scar from surgery is hidden underneath my cap. "Means when you keep on annoying me, I could drop dead right here, right now", I add then, jokingly and wink at Maura, who stares back in shock.

"Hey, hey, just kidding there", I mean to calm her down.

"I'm not annoying you?", she asks almost hopefully.

"No, no you're not", I assure her and give her a reassuring smile. She wasn't annoying me in the slightest. In the contrary, I haven't talked to anyone, but Frost and maybe Frankie, this jolly and almost unworried in weeks. Maybe Ma was right and support group isn't that bad after all. Although apart from Maura – and Vince who seems nice enough – it wasn't all that exciting. But if it means that I could see Maura again, I'll go back there in three days.

"So, do you plan to go back to support group?", I want to know as we are standing outside near the parking lot, waiting to get picked up. By now my mom isn't here, but I don't wonder, she's never punctual.

"I guess so…it helped a bit, being able to speak my mind and listening to the others' stories. Will you go back too?"

"Actually I just wanted to get a taste of it, but…if you go, I go, okay?", I say after shortly giving it a thought.

"So, we meet again?", Maura replies with the same hopeful look in her hazel colored eyes and once again the term adorable comes to my mind.

"Yeah, it would be nice", I mean, because I'd really like to see her again. The prospect of meeting Maura again actually is the only thing that makes the thought of coming back to support group worth it. I don't think I'd join once more otherwise. It's not world-changing or something.

"It would", she agrees with a light smile, then her view shifts to a point to our right, as a grey SUV is turning up in front of us. "Oh, that's my dad, he's picking me up", Maura means and I only nod in reply.

"See you again on Thursday?", Maura asks then.

"Yeah, I'd say it's a date, but…that would sound weird, considering we're talking about cancer support group, right?", I joke and make her grin a little.

"Also I don't think we know each other well enough to go on a date, yet", she says in a voice that makes me wonder whether she's just kidding or not and it's irritating me a little.

"No?", I ask back therefore, but still in my joking mode, which makes her laugh.

"No", Maura replies, matter-of-factly and then: "But I see you on Thursday. I've got to go now, my dad..."

"Yeah, okay."

"Bye, Jane", she means with a wave that I return. "See you, Maura!"

Maura just closed the car door, as I see my mom driving up and for the first time I'm glad that she's always late, otherwise I couldn't have talked to Maura that long.

* * *

"You made a new friend?", Ma asks as soon as I open the door to get inside the car.

"Did you spy on us, or what?", I give back, while buckling in my seatbelt and rolling my eyes, because this was so typically Ma that it totally wouldn't surprise me.

"No, Janie!", she replies in a voice that indicates that she'd never do so, although, in fact, she actually would. "I just saw you talking to that nice girl there as I was driving up, so did you make a friend at support group?"

"Yeah, I guess so, Ma", I mean because I don't feel like re-telling my whole support group experience.

"So, will you go again?" Obviously I knew that she'd ask this question.

"I might", I just shrug, but cannot hold in a grin, because I know that I'll definitely go back there, as long as Maura would be there.

"Oh, you! You enjoyed it, didn't you?", Ma obviously can see through me, I guess that's what seventeen years of practice did to her.

"Okay, okay…it wasn't that bad, alright? I mean…it was kinda boring and actually I don't wanna listen to everyone talking about their cancer story, but I met Maura there and she's…interesting", I tell and finally settle for a word that could best describe the blonde girl as for now I don't know that much about her.

And then it occurs to me, that there are so many questions that I'd like to ask her, not about her cancer story, because I don't care. She told everything there is to know; but when actually thinking about it, all I know about her is, that she's at med school and that her parents are rich, since they could afford a boarding school and a private teacher. This is also proven by the car her dad is driving. Apart from that, though, there's nothing I could tell about her, except, that she's easily the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen and if she wasn't that humble and nice, and above all adorable – I think that's the word that will forever come to my mind now, when thinking of Maura – I'd probably be a bit jealous of the perfect way her clothes fit and how her hair is falling. Her hair. Okay, I'm definitely a tiny bit jealous of that, but probably only because my own hair is non-existent at the moment.

"Janie, we're home", Ma says empathically, which rips me out of my thoughts and lets me realize that this definitely wasn't the first time she told me so.

Also I cannot believe that I actually was thinking about Maura the whole way home from the hospital. There is just so much that I'd like to know about her and I cannot explain why I'm so curious about her. It's like I'm drawn to her, I guess that's also the reason why I just had to talk to her after support group was over. I guess, the easiest way to put it is, that Maura just is a really interesting person. And I totally cannot wait to see her again. It's weird, but I really didn't expect that support group, which seemed like an annoying necessity that I only wanted to try out maybe once, would become an actual thing to look forward to.


End file.
